


Light that Leads Not Astray

by Allekha



Category: Yuri!!! on Ice (Anime)
Genre: First Time, M/M, Pre-Canon
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2017-07-24
Updated: 2017-07-24
Packaged: 2018-12-06 05:06:20
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 1,762
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/11593545
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/Allekha/pseuds/Allekha
Summary: Victor hadn't seen Chris in almost a year. There was something different about him, now, more than just his new haircut.





	Light that Leads Not Astray

**Author's Note:**

  * For [thesleepingsatellite](https://archiveofourown.org/users/thesleepingsatellite/gifts).



It was a brand-new season, which meant new routines and new costumes and all the excitement of competition after the comparative lull of summer. Victor had slept too much on the plane and was bouncing on his feet as he waited for the elevator in the hotel, absently listening to Yakov talk to someone he knew in the lobby.

The elevator finally came, and Victor practically leapt into it. The doors had started to close when someone else stepped in, though Victor was too busy trying to get the elevator to accept his key card to see who it was.

"Ninth floor, please," they said, and Victor knew that voice. He hit the button and looked up with a smile to see Chris.

He liked Chris. It had been forever since he had seen him – Chris hadn't shown up at Worlds last year for whatever reason, Victor didn't know. But Chris was nice, the genuine kind of nice, and more importantly, he was _cute_. The last time they were at a competition together, they'd gotten tipsy together at the afterparty in someone's room. Chris's laughter kept turning into something closer to giggles, and he let Victor play with his hair for ages. It had sort of been like petting Makkachin, except his curls were looser and a bit softer.

Oh, huh. Chris looked different. His haircut was different, and was he taller? He seemed taller. And there was something about his face, but maybe that was just his hair. There were still curls, but it wasn't as fluffy and sproingy as it had been before, closer-cropped, especially on the sides. "You cut your hair!" he said, and then realized that it was kind of obvious, so he followed it up with, "It suits you really well."

Chris touched it briefly. "Thanks," he said, and smiled, and his smile was different, too. Last time it had been shier. That suited him, too, the more confident look.

They exchanged a few more words before Chris got off at his floor, and when Victor stepped off at his own floor a few seconds later, he realized he was still smiling. Confused, he touched his mouth until it naturally fell back out of the smile. Well, he had been happy to see Chris again. He wished that they'd had more time to talk. Maybe they could catch up later.

They didn't get to have a proper conversation before the short program, where Victor went second. He was still jittery with excitement, but he managed to tamp it down to an enthusiastic smile by the time it was his turn on the ice. Yakov looked like he wanted to say something as he took Victor's skate guards, but in the end he didn't remind him of anything like he usually did. He just said, "You'll do well, Vitya."

And he did. He landed every jump, almost felt the music flow through him as he danced, and came out of it to the sort of loud applause that made his heart skip along. Yakov had criticisms, of course, but Victor ignored them for the moment – he could work on them back home – and smiled over his flowers as his very nice score was read out.

He managed to catch Chris's program on one of the backstage screens. He liked Chris's programs, but they'd always been missing a something Victor couldn't quite put into words. They were good, but... maybe not good for Chris. Better for someone else.

This year was different.

Gone was the elegant, delicate music. Gone was the innocent smile. In their place was something stronger, more expressive, more confident, more physical. Chris skated like he was making the music, not being pulled along by it, and his tight costume traced every line of his limbs as he jumped and spun and moved across the ice. Victor didn't want to look away.

This was how Chris was supposed to skate. This was how he _should_ skate.

Victor caught him at the elevators again that night, back at the hotel, just as the doors on one were opening. "I really liked your program today," he said as they stepped in. "You skated it very well." He might have gone into specifics, but, well, it was a short elevator ride. These things moved so fast.

"You were watching?" And oh, there was a little bit of the old Chris, in the way his eyes went kind of big and round.

"Of course I did." He settled against the wall right next to Chris, and on an impulse, pulled his hair tie out. Chris's eyes went to his hair instantly as he drew a strand over his shoulder and started to play with it. Chris's hand shifted, and for a moment Victor thought he was going to touch it – sometimes people did that, with or without asking first. He wouldn't mind if Chris did, though. They were friends, weren't they, it would be fine. "I'm looking forward to seeing your free skate," he added.

"Thank you," Chris said. "I'm sure you'll do well, too."

And then they hit his floor, and then he left. Victor frowned after him and found himself wishing that Chris had touched his hair after all.

When they had practice, he kept looking at Chris more than he should have. But Chris didn't look at him. Which wasn't fair, because Victor knew Chris had been watching him at every other competition they had been at together, and Victor had sometimes tossed him a smile or a short wave when he felt like it to watch him flush and do a cute little wave back.

"Focus," Yakov chided him when he came over to grab some water. "Stop being so distracted."

"I know," Victor whined, and he did his best to focus after that. It still felt strange when Chris, leaving first, barely took the time to smile at him before he left, talking with his coach in rapid French.

As Chris had said, they both did well in the free skate, Victor managing to grab gold and Chris a hard-fought silver. Chris's program had been even more suited for him, this time. He'd looked like he _wanted_ to skate it the whole time, and Victor could have watched it without the music just for the way he moved, graceful and powerful.

He didn't look like the angelic little kid anymore. That was it. He didn't look like he was fourteen anymore. He seemed like he was actually Victor's age. That was what was with his face – he didn't have the cherub-like curls and the chubby cheeks and the big huge – okay, his eyes were still pretty big. But they were pretty, Victor liked them.

At the party afterward, Victor grabbed a couple of glasses of champagne and took a sip from one as he hunted Chris down. (It was okay. He was still getting used to the taste.) He found him sitting down, not even talking to anyone, excellent. There wasn't really room for two people, but he plopped down next to him anyway. "Would you like some?" he asked, offering the other glass. He said it in French, partially to show off and partially because he hardly ever got to use it and partially because he thought Chris would like it.

Chris blinked at him. "Yes, please," he said, also in French, and took the glass, took a sip. He didn't move away, leaving them pressed together along most of their bodies. Even through their suits, Victor could feel his warmth. "I didn't know you spoke French."

"I've been studying it for a while. I started because I liked ballet so much and because I wanted to learn something prettier than English."

"You're very good."

Victor smiled at the praise. With the hand that wasn't holding his glass, he started to wind a strand of his loose hair around his fingers. "Am I really? I study when I can, but I don't get much practice speaking it."

"Well," Chris said. Paused. Drank some more of his champagne. "Your accent could use some work, I suppose."

Victor sighed. "I thought so. It's hard to tell what I'm doing wrong by myself."

"I could help, if you wanted."

"Would you?" Victor smiled more. 

Chris leaned in closer. He had really pretty eyes, big and green, lined with long eyelashes. They looked like they might even be natural, not made-up. Victor had never noticed before. "We should go somewhere quieter, though. I can hardly hear you here. I think my room is closer?"

They found a table to leave their glasses on and left. This time, in the elevator, Victor could feel his heart beating as they watched the numbers go up. Or maybe Chris watched them; Victor couldn't stop looking at Chris. He was wearing a different suit than he had been last time, and the sleeves of it weren't too long now, but hit his hands at just the right place. And he _was_ taller, with maybe a centimeter or two on Victor.

It turned out that the hotel had its stupid wallpaper on every floor – some kind of ugly faces and vases pattern that left Victor feeling dizzy just looking at it. Chris took his hand. "This way," he said, leading Victor to his room.

Was this the part where Victor kissed him, when they went inside? Victor wanted to kiss him. Only Chris turned and put a hand on his cheek first, and so he waited. Chris just looked at him for a long few moments, and then he finally asked, "Is it alright if I kiss you?"

Victor answered by pulling him forward and kissing him, which seemed to suffice. He was very warm, and tasted like the champagne – Victor almost thought he could feel the bubbles, though they were long gone – and by the time they broke apart, he found that Chris had backed him into the wall without realizing. He very much didn't mind. He wanted Chris to kiss him again, wanted Chris to touch his hair and undo his tie, wanted Chris to push him down to the bed.

Chris pushed their lips back together, Chris touched his throat just above the knot of his tie, Chris looked at him with those pretty eyes of his. Victor thought he saw questions in them, answered silently with _yes yes yes_ , put his arms around Chris and pulled him closer until there was no more space between them and let Chris show him just how much a cute cherub he wasn't.


End file.
